


Words of Wisdom

by nillial



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Wisdom Teeth, also Michael is Clueless, christine promises milkshakes, he vaguely hints at a crush a couple times and michael is sweatin, i know ppl dont usually tell secrets after they get their wisdom teeth out but shhhh, its a good time!!, jenna works at 7/11, jeremy gets his wisdom teeth out n admits some things, jeremy is high
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-20 19:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nillial/pseuds/nillial
Summary: When Jeremy gets his wisdom teeth removed and his dad can’t take him home, Michael sees it as the perfect opportunity to watch his best friend say and do embarrassing stuff that he could tease him about forever.And then Jeremy is just a little too affectionate, a little too sweet, and reveals a little too many carefully hidden secrets.





	1. Chapter One: Confessions

Jeremy had his face smushed against the window, eyes half-open, completely shit-faced on whatever anesthetic the dentists gave him. He was babbling something about wanting to go to the aquarium, and about how,  _ Dude, do you think anyone's ever gotten high at the aquarium? Like, under one of those arches that are actually fish tanks and the fish are swimming over you while you walk? That would be the best place to get high at. Or the worst. _

Jeremy’s dad needed to leave soon after the procedure began.  _ “Something at work,” _ he had explained over the phone.  _ “I can’t miss it. You have a car, right, Michael? I’ll leave the doors unlocked. All you have to do is take care of Jeremy while I’m gone. And, I’ll— uh— throw in twenty bucks. Can you do it?” _

Of course, Michael accepted, because how could he pass up an opportunity to watch his best friend talk nonsense all day and get  _ paid _ for it? That shit was prime teasing material.

“‘Mm,” Jeremy mumbled now, his swollen cheeks and numb mouth muffling his speech. “I want some fries.”    


“You can’t have fries, dude,” Michael reminded him. “Your mouth is all jacked up.”   


“Can I have a slushie?”   


“You just left the dentist, like, ten minutes ago. No slushies right now.”   


“When are we gonna be home?”   


“I ‘dunno. Twenty minutes?”   


“How long is that?”   


“Just be patient.”   


“Where’s m’ dad?”

“Work.”

“Can we get pizza? I’m hungry.”   


“Nah, man. Your teeth are too fucked, remember?”

“I don’t want my teeth to be fucked.”   


“It’s too late, Jeremy. Your teeth are gone.”   


He furrowed his brow, staring incredulously at Michael. “All of ‘em?”   


When an opportunity like that presented itself, he usually hesitated. Not this time. “... Yes.”   


“But I thought they were jus’ gonna take out some of ‘em!”

“Aw, man, they lied. Took all your teeth and just left, dude. They’re all gone.”   


“Even the babies?”   


“Yeah. Even the babies.”  
  
“I thought I lost those!”

“You didn’t. That’s why they took them, too. The babies are the most valuable.”   


“Shit. Is that why I can’t feel my teeth?”   


“M’hmm. They just swiped all your teeth and put them in a bag. I bet the Tooth Fairy has some secret ring or something.”

“Tooth Fairy—?” Jeremy reached a hand to his mouth, feeling around for his teeth, until one of his incisors poked his finger. “You motherfucker.”

“Dammit. I’ve been found out.”   


“You’re buyin’ me chips after this.”   


“You can’t have chips, man!”

“Why not?”   


“Remember? Four of your molars are gone.”   


Jeremy glanced back down at his fingers, which were now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah. Holy shit, dude. Is it supposed to be bleeding like this?”   


“I mean, yeah. Like I said, four of your molars are gone.”   


“Why did I even have them in the first place, then?”   


“‘Cause everyone used to eat stuff that was rough and we needed an extra set of molars to chew it.”   


“So why can’t I keep them?”

“Because you don’t eat raw meat and roots and your big ol’ mouth doesn’t have enough room for more teeth.”   


He slumped back into his seat. “I want my teeth back, Michael. What do I gotta do to get them to come back? Do I gotta… make a sacrifice? Like, do I gotta take out more teeth?”   


“Nope,” he said, removing one hand from the steering wheel to rest it on Jeremy’s shoulder for a few seconds. “I think you’ve lost enough of those today.”

“Oh,” murmured Jeremy, letting his head lean against the window. “You’re smart, Michael.”   


“Thanks.”

“Like, really smart.”   


He felt himself pink. God, could he not even be complimented by his best friend without feeling slight flutters? He was pathetic. “Jeremy, the only reason why I know about the wisdom teeth thing is because I googled it in the waiting room.”   


“Still, you’re smart. You’re all good at math ‘n shit.”   


“You’re pretty bright yourself, y’know. I’m not  _ that _ smart.”   


“No, because you’re smart at other things, too. Like video games. And findin’ cool stuff. Like that Sega Dreamcast you got on eBay for fifty bucks.”

“I only have, like, one game for that thing.”

“It's still cool. Can we play it when we get home?”

“Aren't you tired?”

“I’m never too tired for games.”

“You passed out while we were playing  _ Doom _ like, two days ago, man,” Michael reminded him.

“Whatever. Can we?”

“Maybe later. It's at my house, anyways.”

“What? We’re not goin’ to your house? Why?”

“Because your dad is going to come back after a while.”

“So you're just gonna leave me alone?”

“No—”

“While I'm all doped up?”

“Jeremy—”

“What if I die like this? Super high and without any teeth?”

“I’m going to take care of you until your dad gets back, man.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

After a moment of silence, Jeremy pulled down the mirror. He opened his mouth, stared at it, then recoiled in disgust at the sight of blood seeping into the cracks of his chapped lips.

“Am I just really high,” he asked, “or do I look like that?”

“You look like that,” Michael responded, risking a quick glance over to his friend before returning his gaze to the road. “Remember? Your mouth is messed up. It’ll heal, though, no worries.”

“‘Course. I’ve got you helpin’ me. You're the best healer I know.”

A blush rose to his face. God, why did Michael get so red at simple praises from his best friend? 

He knew why. His stupid-ass crush on him was going to ruin him one day.

“Well,” Michael said with a quick cough to clear his throat, “thanks. I’ll do my best to make sure your mouth doesn't die.”

“Good. You got a pretty mouth, Michael.”

_ Jesus. _

He gave a nervous chuckle, followed by a side-eyed glance towards his friend, who was transfixed on his lips. His affinity for Jeremy wasn't going to ruin him— Jeremy himself was.

“... Thanks?” he replied. 

“I like your mouth a lot.”

“I… like yours, too?”   


“Really? I can’t feel mine. Didn’t they put tissues inside of it, or something?”   


“Yeah, gauze pads, I think. You know, to stop the bleeding.”   


He studied himself in the mirror again. “They didn’t work. ‘M still bleeding.”   


“I mean— they’re not supposed to stop it entirely, man. Just help a little. I’ll take ‘em out when we get to your place.”   


“M’kay.” He shifted in his seat. “This feels weird. It’s different than being weed-high, I think.”   


“It probably is. You have a shit-ton of dentist drugs in you.”

“Dentists are hardcore,” he said, then turned his head from the car mirror to Michael. “Have you ever gotten your wisdom teeth out?”   


“No. ‘Course, we’re only seventeen. My uncle just now got his out, and he’s in his late twenties.”

“Tell your uncle that I’m better than him.”

“Consider it done.”

He let out a short groan, then leaned onto Michael’s shoulder. The same thing had happened a million times before, but, lately, each time Jeremy rested his head on him, his heart sped just a little faster. 

“You really do have a pretty mouth,” Jeremy mumbled. “And a pretty face. Just in general.” 

Before he could stop him, he reached a hand up to Michael’s face and rested it on his mouth. Michael quickly shook it off, and, feeling as if he were glowing crimson, exclaimed, “Jesus, Jeremy, I’m  _ driving!” _

Jeremy released a low chuckle, then returned his hand to his side. “I wanna call Christine.”

He sighed. If Jeremy weren’t so adorable, he would have thrown him out of the car already. “I… Okay. My phone is in one of the cup holders.”

His friend dragged a sluggish hand to Michael’s phone, pressed the home button, then stared blankly at the screen. 

“Did you forget?” Michael asked. “Password is 1111. Remember? We had this huge three-day-long argument over who got to be player one, and I was like,  _ ‘I put in over a hundred hours into this game and I just got it this week, I’m player one’ _ and you were saying that since we were at your house, you should get to be player one, so I ended up changing half of the usernames and passwords and stuff I had to incorporate a one in them in order to reiterate the point. Like, I had you change my contact name in your phone to ‘Player One’ and everything.”

“I know,” Jeremy replied, slowly inputting the code. “Jus’ sleepy. But, hey, since I’m all loopy, can I be player one next time?”   
“... We’ll see.”

He let out a soft “yay” before tapping at the screen furiously. He grew increasingly frustrated in each second that passed, brow knitting together in a vain attempt to concentrate. 

“Having trouble?” Michael asked.

“Christine’s number isn’t showing up.”   


He pulled up to a red light, then grabbed the phone of Jeremy’s hand. “That’s because you wrote ‘Crhiistomw’ in the contact search bar,” he said, fixing his mistake and tapping the call button before passing the phone back to him.   


Soon afterwards, Christine’s ringback tone (some song from some musical, its quality drastically lowered thanks to the static) filled the otherwise silent car. She picked up after a couple rings. 

“Hey, Michael,” she greeted. “What’s going on? Is Jeremy okay?”   


“‘M fine,” Jeremy replied. “I just got a really numb mouth. Or no mouth at all. I can see it, but I can’t feel it. Wait, did they take my mouth  _ and _ my teeth? If they did, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

“Jeremy? What are you doing with Michael’s phone?” 

“He wanted to call you,” Michael interrupted. “He’s alright, by the way. Just all doped up on anesthetic and stuff.”   


“Oh,” Christine said, dragging out the ‘o’. “How are you feeling, Jeremy?”   


“Kinda tired,” Jeremy replied, “and weird. Like, I know what I’m sayin’ and what I’m doing, but I don’t at the same time. And I really want ice cream.”

“Maybe I’ll bring a milkshake for you later,” Christine told him.

“You’re a good friend, Christine.”   


“You too, Jeremy.”   


“I like strawberry ice cream, if you were wonderin’.”   


“I’ll make sure to get you a strawberry milkshake.”

“Hey, I got a question. What’s your favorite kinda ice cream?”   


“Mint chocolate-chip.”   


_ “What? _ That tastes like toothpaste!”

“Maybe I like the taste of toothpaste.”   


“You’re weird. I’ll pay you back in mint ice cream sometime.”

“Thanks.”   


“I gotta ask Michael a question now. Bye, Christine.”

“Bye, Jeremy.”   


He fumbled with the screen until his finger hit the end call button, then turned to Michael. “Your top-favorite ice cream of all time is that one blueberry cheesecake kind, right?”   


He glanced over at Jeremy. How did he remember that while he was all doped up and kept forgetting he wasn’t supposed to eat hard foods? “Yeah. But most fast-food places usually only have the three classic flavors, so I just settle for chocolate, since it’s my second favorite.”

Jeremy separated his gaze from him, slumping back in his seat, staring at the road ahead of them through the windshield. “We should stop ‘n get some.”

He peered at the road signs in front of him. Was he going the wrong way or was he okay? “We’ll, uh… we’ll get some later. I’m trying to figure out where to go right now.”   
“M’mkay. I still want somethin’ to eat when we get home, though. ‘M fuckin’  _ starved.” _

“I know.”   


“And tired.”   


“You can take a nap.”   


“Nah, not right now. It’s not sleepin’ time yet. I gotta get home, I gotta eat that tub of Neapolitan ice cream we have in the freezer… I’ve got priorities.”   


“And you got them set straight.”   


“You bet I do,” Jeremy said. He looked down at the phone he still had in his hand. Michael’s phone. “Hey, what’s your contact name for me?”

_ Shit _ . “Just ‘Asshole’,” Michael lied.

“What? Nuh-uh. I wanna see,” he said, again inputting the passcode and unlocking it. He started fishing around for his messages, fingers clumsily sliding across the screen.

_ Shit, shit, shit. _ “Uh, hey, Jeremy, I kinda need my phone back. Like, right now.”   


“No, you don’t,” he replied, still searching. “You’re drivin’. I’m all doped up and I still know that you’re not s’posed to do that or you die.”   


“C’mon, man, for me?”   


“I’m not dyin’ while I’m high on dentist drugs. Maybe some other time. Like… When I’m 32. I have a strange feeling I’m gonna die at 32. That, or 87.” 

“Please, Jeremy— just— just put it back,” Michael pleaded.

“Found it,” he said, tapping on the icon. And, of course, Jeremy’s contact was the first to show up.

He tapped on that, too.

_ Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. _

Displayed on the top of the screen was  _ ❥ ♡ ♥ Player Two <3❥ ♡ ♥. _

_ Fuck. _

Michael knew he shouldn’t have surrounded the nickname he had for Jeremy with heart emojis. He knew he was probably going to find it someday. He just thought he could prevent him from seeing it. Really, how idiotic could he be?

Jeremy was going to hate him. He was going to want nothing more to do with him. Even in his current state, he would probably have enough sense to come to the conclusion that he felt something for him, and Jeremy would not reciprocate at all because he was  _ Jeremy _ , and he was supposed to be his best friend, not someone who he crushed on—

“You do that too?” Jeremy asked.

Michael turned his head to face him. “Uh— what?”   


“You put lil’ heart emojis ‘round my name!” he grinned. “I did the same thing to you.”   


_ What? _ “What?”   


“Yeah! I was gonna keep it secret, ‘cause it was embarrassing, but it‘s good to know that you do it, too,” he said.

He leaned back into his seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Oh.”   
Maybe that was just a thing that friends did and he got worked up over nothing. It probably was. Getting worked up over nothing was one of the things Michael did best.

Nonetheless, he could feel the blush on his face.

It wasn’t even a big deal— Jeremy was speaking without thinking. Maybe he didn’t even do the same thing, but said it just because there was nothing stopping him. 

Or, maybe he did, but if it was just a regular friend thing, why did he find it embarrassing? They’d been best friends for over a decade. Nothing was embarrassing. 

Maybe Jeremy felt the same way Michael did.

God, no he didn’t. Michael just needed to quit overanalyzing shit. 

He ran a couple of fingers through his hair, then returned them to the steering wheel. _ Jesus fucking Christ. _ At least he was getting paid for this. 

“Hey, Michael?” Jeremy asked.

“Yeah?”   


“What do you think would happen if I got stoned while high on dentist drugs?”   


He sighed. “Don’t try it.”   


“Aww, why not?”

“You’ll die.”

“Nuh-uh _.” _   


“Yeah-huh! Man, what if you get so high that you die and ascend to some, like, astral realm of high? Like, another plane of existence?”   


“Nuh- _ uh.” _

“Okay, fine, I’m bullshitting you. It’s just that you probably shouldn’t smoke weed directly after getting your wisdom teeth removed.”

“M’kay, fine. But after?”

“Maybe once you’re all healed up, buddy. Then we’ll get high together.”

“Hell yeah— 7/11!  _ 7/11!” _

Michael looked to his right. Sure enough, there was the 7/11 on the street corner that faced the dollar store, meaning it was a ten-minute drive to Jeremy’s house. 

“That’s a 7/11,” he confirmed.

“Can we get a slushie  _ now?” _ Jeremy begged.

Michael only shot him a look. 

“I ‘dunno if I can even eat the ice cream in the fridge before I fall asleep, dude. ‘M fuckin’ starvin’ and the only thing I’m gonna be able to eat for the next couple of days is ice cream from a tub and mashed potatoes,” he said. “I jus’ want a slushie. A blue raspberry one. Have some sympathy for the dying.”   


Michael (unsuccessfully) tried to suppress a grin before pulling into the parking lot. “Okay. Wait in the car and I’ll get you your blue raspberry slushie.”   


“You’re the best, Michael.”   


“Don’t forget it,” he replied, exiting the car with a flourish.

He strolled up to the 7/11, pushing the doors in front of him open. With a quick look around, he walked up to the counter and faced the woman behind it, who currently had her back to him while she rifled around in some boxes.

“Uh, hey,” Michael greeted.

The woman hesitated, then straightened, sliding the box off to the side. “How can I help you?” she asked, spinning around on her heel, but pausing when she saw who had addressed her.

_ “Jenna?” _ Michael half-shouted.

_ “Michael?”  _ Jenna responded in the same tone. “What are you doing here?”   
“What are  _ you _ doing here?” he countered. “I thought you were working at Claire’s.” 

“I  _ was _ working at Claire’s,” she replied, slight dejection in her voice. “Emphasis on  _ was.” _

“What happened?”   


“I snapped at a customer who was throwing a temper tantrum over the accessories we sold.”   


“Oh, yeah. You told me about that last time we went out for smoothies.”   


“Was that the same smoothie session where I told you that story about Calvin Puntanen?”

“You mean the one where he got wasted, streaked through half the town, then saw Gwendolyn Rinker’s house and started sobbing naked on her doorstep, begging her to take him back?”   


“M’hmm.”   


“Yeah. Damn, that was wild.”

“Uh-huh. Next session, I gotta tell you what I heard about Emmett Buckwalter’s fling with those models.”

“Can’t you just tell me now?”

“No. It’s a surprise.”   


“Fine. Then I’ll just withhold what I recently learned about what happened at Natalie Tsu’s last party.”   


“You  _ wouldn’t.” _

“Watch me,” Michael grinned.   


“Okay, fine. Whatever. I’ll wait,” she dismissed, a glare on her face that was only half-serious, elbows leaning against the counter. “Now— what do you need?”   


“Medium Coke slushie and a large blue raspberry slushie.”   


_ “Two _ slushies, huh?” she asked, making her way to the slushie machine. “You just like slushies or do you have someone else with you?”   


“Jeremy just got his wisdom teeth pulled out of him, like, less than an hour ago,” he told her. “He’s in the car.”   


“Oh,” she said, the corners of her mouth upturning into a smirk. “Jeremy, huh?”   


“... Why do you have that look on your face?” Michael leaned forward on the counter while she filled up the disposable cups.

“What look?” she denied, though she clearly knew what he meant. “I don’t have a look.”   


“Yes, you do,” he said. “You know you do.”   


“It’s just,” she began, passing him the blue raspberry slushie before starting on the Coke one, “you and Jeremy seem… close.”   


He eyed her suspiciously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that… You’re always talking about him.”   


“He’s been my best friend since kindergarten, Jenna.”   


“Oh, I know! But the closer people get, and the more time they spend together, the quicker certain… feelings… develop.”   


“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”   


“Maybe.”   


“Jenna, c’mon. I don’t have a crush on Jeremy.”   


“Y’know, I never said you did, but it’s funny how you jumped to that conclusion. Almost as if you thought I had found out about your crush on Jeremy and got defensive.”   


_ “Jenna.” _

“What?” she asked, smirk still on her face when she handed him his Coke slushie. 

“Jeremy’s my best friend,” he told her. “Not my  _ boy _ friend.”

“Not yet.”   


“My God, Jenna.”   


“I’m just saying, Michael, it’s kinda odd how a dude as handsome as you has gone so long without a boyfriend. Didn’t Austin Bremner ask you out a few weeks ago?”   


“Yeah, and I turned him down because I barely knew him and I’m pretty sure he only liked me because Jeremy and I started hanging out with the cool kids.”

“Well, yeah, fair point, but it’s not the fact that you rejected him that I’m referring to.”   


He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”   


“Oh, it’s just that Jeremy was talking shit about Austin an awful lot for the week following.”   


“... He was?” Michael asked, again feeling butterflies stir in his stomach. He had to calm down every once in a while. Not everything that Jeremy did was supposed to make him fall for him even more.   


“Yeah. Rich asked if he was jealous, and he just got really defensive. He was glowing red. Also, the slushies are $3.30.”

He started fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. “Well, I remember  _ some _ shit-talking, but… When did that happen?”   


“Rich, Jeremy, and I were trying to help find Brooke a birthday present for her mom at Bath & Body Works and we stopped for pretzels,” she began, tapping her fingers on the counter. “He saw Austin pass by, and, like, immediately started digging up dirt on him. Then Brooke was like,  _ ‘Jeremy, why have you been shit-talking Austin Bremner so much?’ _ and Jeremy was like, ‘ _ I don’t know, I just don’t like him, he tried to use Michael’ _ , so Rich was like,  _ ‘Are you just jealous because someone other than you tried to ask him out?’ _ , and then Jeremy started getting all defensive. His entire face was, like, crimson. He started sputtering and tripping over his words and telling us that, no, you’re his best friend, so he would never. But, I don’t know… If someone accused me of having a crush on someone I didn’t have a crush on, I would probably dismiss it a lot more calmly than that.”

He produced a five dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it on the counter. “Maybe he just genuinely doesn’t like Austin Bremner.”   


Jenna took it and opened up the register. “He barely knows him. I can understand talking about him for a little while because you were upset about it, which made him upset, but he has hardly any reason to badmouth him for as long as he did.”

“I think you’re overthinking this.”   


“I think you’re  _ under _ thinking this,” Jenna countered, trying to work out his change.

“Jeremy— he— he doesn’t…” Michael folded his arms. “It’s just not going to happen, Jenna.” 

“Whatever you say.” She grabbed his arm and deposited his change into his extended hand. “But, you know, I’m more than just a gossip dispenser.”   


“I know.”   


“And if you ever want to talk to me about anything, crush-related or not, I wouldn’t tell a soul.”   


“I know.”   


“Just checkin’. I worry sometimes.”   


“I know. You’re a good friend, Jenna.”   


“Better believe it. Now go make sure Jeremy hasn’t gotten himself killed yet. I have a store full of customers to tend to.”   


“No one’s here except for me.”   


“Potential customers.”

“Right,” he smiled, making his way to the exit. “Bye, Jenna.”   


“Bye, Michael,” she called as the doors swung closed behind him.

He took another sip of his slushie as he stuffed his wallet back into his pocket. 

He knew Jenna meant well, but she was wrong, no matter what she thought she knew. Even with all the weird stuff Jeremy had been saying all day, Michael was near certain he had no feelings for him. And, even if he did— which he didn’t— he doubted either of them would ever build up enough courage to ask the other. It took a year and a sadistic computer-generated asshole to get Jeremy to ask Christine out, and Michael had never dated anyone. (That is, unless you counted Gabe Oetinger from the ninth grade, but that lasted less than a week because Gabe just wanted to make someone jealous and Michael just wanted someone to crush on other than Jeremy. Neither of their plans ended up working out.) 

Besides, risking ruining a life-long friendship in order to pursue a romantic relationship was out of the question. Jeremy was his friend first.

He strolled back over to his car and opened the door, slipping into the driver’s seat. Jeremy was still beside him, poking at his own cheeks.

“What are you doing, man?” asked Michael.

“Tryin’ to find the spot where they took out the wisdom tooth,” Jeremy replied. “I wonder if there’s a hole just sittin’ in my gums now.”   


“Maybe,” he said. “I got your slushie.”   


“Hell yeah,” Jeremy muttered as he passed it to him. He immediately began gulping it down. Michael started up the car and pulled out.

“Hey,” Jeremy said after a solid couple of minutes of him chugging his slushie. “Thanks.”   


“For what?” Michael asked.

“For stoppin’ to get me this. I’m not as hungry anymore. I prob’ly should’ve eaten breakfast this morning, but oh well.”

“Dude, it was no problem. Why didn’t you eat breakfast?”   


“Forgot. I had some coffee, though, and my tongue got kinda burnt, but that’s the price I pay for caffeine. Woah, I wonder what would happen if you put coffee in a slushie and made, like, a coffee slushie. I’d eat that.”   


“Hmm. You feeling alright, by the way? Like, I know you’re super high, but has it, like, worn off a little bit?”   


“A little, maybe.”   


“Your mouth doesn’t hurt, does it?”   


“Nah.”   


“Okay, good.”   


“Why, did you poison this?”   


“No—”   


“I knew you were takin’ longer than usual. Dude, after all these years...”   


“I didn’t—”   


“Was it rat poison? Or, like, regular poison?” He clicked his tongue. “I’m not tastin’ anything. Except slushie and maybe blood. Wait, do I even taste slushie? I can’t feel my tongue.”   


“There’s no poison,” Michael assured. “The reason why I took so long is because I ran into Jenna, not because we were trying to kill you. I just wanted to check on you.”

“What’d Jenna say?” asked Jeremy, who was back to drinking his slushie, now confident he had not been poisoned. 

He hesitated. “Oh, just… stuff.”   


“Stuff? ‘Bout what?”   


“... About… people.”   


“What kinda people?”   


“Oh, just, uh…” He raised a hand to his head, letting his fingers run through his hair. “Austin Bremner.”

“Aw, now you  _ gotta _ tell me what she said about him.”   


“Well, actually, that’s the thing,” he explained, becoming increasingly nervous. “She told me you kept badmouthing Austin Bremner for a really long time without much of a reason.”

“I  _ had _ a reason.”   


“Being…?”   


“He asked you out just because he wanted to hang out with the cool kids.”   


“Well, he might have, but, like, was there any other reason?”   


“Yeah!”

“What was it?”   


“... I don’t remember.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter.  _ Fuck it. Just say it. _ “Jenna said that she thought you were jealous.”   


Jeremy opened his mouth and furrowed his brow, then paused. He thought for a moment, then slinked back into his seat. “Oh. Maybe.”   


_ What did he mean ‘oh, maybe’?  _

“... Okay,” Michael said. “That… I don’t know what you… okay.”

“M’mm, yeah, she’s probably right,” Jeremy agreed, mostly to himself. 

“What were you jealous of?” Michael decided to ask.

A wide grin spread across his face. “I can’t tell you right  _ now! _ It’s not the right time.”

“Time for what?”   


“It’s a surprise,” he said, leaning back against his seat, one arm behind his head and another holding his slushie. “Y’know, before they got me all high on this dentist stuff, I would have never even considered doing it. But I feel like I can do anythin’ right now. I think I’ll wait ‘til I finish this slushie, though.”   


“... I get the feeling you’re planning murder.”   


“Nah. No murder. I think. But I do feel pretty good. I should have my wisdom teeth taken out all the time.”   


“You can’t do that. You don’t have wisdom teeth anymore.”

“I’ll grow them back.”   


“I don’t think that’s how it works, Jeremy.”   


“Oh. Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?”   


“I know you thought I was gonna kill someone, but if I’m being honest, I think chickens are the worst murderers.”   


“They probably are.”   


“Yeah. They’re vicious. Don’t worry about me killin’ anyone. Worry about the chickens.”   


“There aren’t any chickens around here.”   


“That’s what they  _ want _ you to think. Oh, hey Michael?”   


“Yeah, Jeremy?”   


“Do you think mermaids eat human meat if they find it? ‘Cause some fish eat human meat. Or is that cannibalism? Is it only half-cannibalism, so it makes it okay?”   


“I ‘dunno, maybe.”

“Do they have any fish friends? ‘Cause they gotta eat the fish. Do they make special fish friends that they promise not to kill and eat all the other fish? Or do they make fish friends and kill them after the fish start trusting them?”   


“Maybe mermaids are herbivores.”   


“Nuh-uh. Not all of ‘em, at least. Some humans are cannibals.”   


“You have a point.”   


“Sebastian and that one fish buddy from Ariel are probably dead now. Ariel ate them.”

“You’re probably right. Rest in peace.”   


“I had a plushie of that fish dude when I was little. Now he’s fuckin’ dead.”   


He glanced over at him. “Dude, are you crying?”   


“No. I don’t think so.” Jeremy raised a finger to his eye. “Oh. Maybe just a little.”

They continued like that for the better part of the remainder of the ride— Jeremy saying whatever was on his mind (mostly useless questions) and Michael giving short, amused responses. They pulled into the driveway of Jeremy’s house, who had finished his slushie and had apparently forgotten all about what he was jealous over. That was fine. If sober Jeremy wouldn’t tell Michael, it was probably bad.

He exited the car and helped Jeremy to do the same, who was still a little too dizzy and doped up to do much except be tired and talk nonsense. 

They made their way to the door. It was unlocked, as promised, which Michael was grateful for. 

They went inside without much trouble. Jeremy immediately collapsed on the couch. “Blanket,” he requested plainly, his voice muffled due to his face being firmly planted into a cushion.

“‘Course,” Michael said. Mr. Heere kept the blankets in a closet in the bathroom. He knew, from his many visits and sleepovers, that Jeremy’s favorite was a plush blanket that was undoubtedly the softest one out of all of them. However, he got it when he was four and enamored with Strawberry Shortcake. As a result, the graphic on the outside of the blanket was a vaguely haunting close-up of Strawberry Shortcake’s face. Michael had no idea how Jeremy slept with her soulless eyes drilling into whatever her gaze happened to fall upon. 

He rifled through the pile of blankets in the closet until he found it. Careful to not cause the others to topple over, he dragged it out and carried it over to him. After Michael unceremoniously dropped it on his back, Jeremy muttered a “thank you.” 

“I’ll go get you an ice pack,” he told him, ruffling Jeremy’s hair. He responded in a short grunt.

Michael speeded to the kitchen and rummaged in the freezer until he found an ice pack, which ended up being one of those reusable ones that you were supposed to put in children’s lunches. It was shaped like a smiley face, albeit most of the face had been scratched off, but that was fine. 

He made his way back over to his place on the couch.

“Put this on your face,” he instructed. Jeremy lazily rose a hand to Michael’s, gripped onto the ice pack, and held it to his cheek.

“It’s cold,” he told him.

“It’s supposed to be cold. Have you spit out those gauze-thingies yet?”   


“No.”   


“You should probably do that.”

Jeremy lifted his face from the couch cushion, turned himself towards Michael, and grinned. He spit out both gauze pads at him.

_ “Jeremy!” _ Michael yelped, jumping back as they hit the floor with an anti-climactic  _ plop. _ He only chuckled in response.

“You told me to spit ‘em out,” he said.

“I meant, like, into a trashcan or something! Not at me!”   


“Well, they’re spit out now, so problem solved.”   


Michael glanced over to the two gauze pads on the floor, drenched in blood after sitting in Jeremy’s mouth for longer than probably necessary. “I’ll, uh… clean that up.”   


“Hey, Michael?” he asked as the other moved towards the kitchen again to retrieve paper towels.

“Yeah?” 

“How do you know so much about how to take care of me?” 

Michael shrugged his shoulders. “I got worried about you in the waiting room so I looked up stuff about what to do after you get your wisdom teeth pulled.”   


Jeremy shifted slightly into a more comfortable position. He was indisputably exhausted. It was a wonder how he managed not to fall asleep in the car. “You were worried?”

“‘Course I was.”   


“You shouldn’t’ve been.”   


“You were getting four molars taken out of you. How could I not worry?”   


“No, I mean, in general, you shouldn’t…” Jeremy trailed off, then spoke again. “‘M sorry about the Squip thing.”

Michael, caught off-guard, hesitated for a moment. “It’s okay.”   


“No, it’s not,” he retorted, eyes half open and threatening to close. “Stop sayin’ it’s okay all the time. You know it’s not okay.”

“But it is now. Everyone’s fine.”   


“No they’re  _ not,” _ he argued, louder this time. “Rich ‘n I still got ‘em saying stuff here and there. Tellin’ us what we need to do, questioning what we’ve already been doing, raking through our brains like it’s their own.”   


Michael paused, and, slowly, he lowered himself to his knees in order to become eye-level with Jeremy. “I thought— I thought you said the Squip was mostly gone. That 

it was just whispers once every few weeks and then it would vanish.”   


He scoffed.  _ “Mostly _ gone. There are whispers once or twice a week, but sometimes it finally decides to speak up again ‘n it hurts like hell. It says a few things, then bugs out and dies.”   


“You never told me that.”   


“I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter. I only tell you shit that matters. It pretty much only repeats things I already know and starts critiquing it. Besides, there are more people that I fucked over—”   


“Jeremy—”

“Like, Chloe says she doesn’t do school plays anymore ‘cause everytime she looks at a script she gets head pains.”

“Chloe never liked doing plays. She already told you she’s okay.”   


“That doesn’t make it any less worse, Michael. And Eminem? I never even liked him, but he’s dead now ‘cause my Squip fuckin’ killed him from afar or some shit.”   


_ “What?” _

“And worst of all—”   


“Wait, Jeremy, we can’t just gloss over the ‘murdering a celebrity’ thing even  _ if _ you’re really high right now—”   


“I hurt you.”

Michael was quiet. He let out a slow sigh. “I already told you that it’s okay you ignored me. Your Squip coerced you into it, right?”   


“I still chose to do it.”

Michael really didn’t want to talk about it. “I know.”   


“I ignored you for months.”   


He winced. He never liked to be reminded of the period of time where he had no friends and no Jeremy, who he had stuck to like cling wrap for twelve years, only to be tossed aside like he never existed. “I know.”   


“And I called you a loser.”   


_ God, shut up, Jeremy.  _ “It’s fine.”

“That’s not okay.”   


“It is now.”   


“I didn’t mean it.”   


“I know you didn’t.”   


“My Squip was turned off ‘n everything—”   


“It’s  _ okay,” _ Michael said, though it came out harsher than he meant it to. 

There was a prolonged silence between the both of them. Jeremy, again, with his eyes slightly more awake than before, spoke. “I know you had a panic attack at Jake’s Halloween party last year.”   


Michael, upon registering what he had said, tensed. “I never told you that.”   


“I know. Jenna saw me come outta the bathroom, but when she went to go in, it was locked. She waited outside for a lil’ bit, and she heard heavy breathing and gasping and sobs. After you guys became friends and she found out it was you, she tried to beat me up.” Jeremy shifted again, shuffling near the end of the couch to be closer to him. “I tell  _ you _ stuff. You gotta tell  _ me _ stuff sometimes.”

He said nothing, considering how to respond, before deciding to resort back to how he always responded when Jeremy reflected on the things he did a year ago. “It’s okay—”   


_ “Stop saying that!” _ he shouted with all the volume he could muster, which wasn’t much, considering the fact that he was exhausted, but it was loud enough for a shout. 

Michael went silent.

“You know it’s not okay,” Jeremy continued. “You know it isn’t. I’m high as balls on some hardcore dentist meds or anaesthetic or whatever and I still know that. I just— I wanna know that it’s okay and that you’re okay, but I also know that nothing’s ever gonna be the same again. I know that I hurt you and I know that I hurt everyone else. You don’t gotta keep tellin’ me that it’s okay. I just… want everyone to know how sorry I am.”   


Michael reached for Jeremy’s hand, which was dangling off the side of the couch. He squeezed it tightly. “You’re forgiven.”

Jeremy smiled, tired and already drifting off. Michael rose from his spot on the floor, took the blanket, which was still folded on Jeremy’s back, and spread it out over him.

“Hey, Michael?” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”   


“I love you.”

He felt his heart flutter.  _ Goddammit. _ “I love you too, buddy.”

“No.” Jeremy’s voice was still soft and his speech still muffled. “I love you, Michael.”

He was quiet again. Jeremy was just speaking without thinking. He had been all day. He meant that he loved having him as a friend, or he loved the relationship that they had, or something that completely and absolutely had nothing to do with any romantic feelings.

“Michael?” Jeremy asked again.

“M’hmm?”   


“‘Member in the car when you asked me why I was talkin’ so much shit about Austin Bremner?”

“Well, that was fifteen minutes ago,” he replied, a hint of laughter at the end of his sentence, “so, yeah.”

“I know why I was jealous.”   


He made sure to tuck the blanket in around him. “You do?”   


“Yeah. It’s ‘cause I didn’t want other people going out with you.”   


“Why? Were you afraid I’d get hurt or something?”   


“No,” Jeremy said, pulling the covers up to his chin like he always did. “It’s because I realized that I wanted to be the one to go out with you.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat.

Jeremy may not have known what he was saying, but he couldn’t make stuff like that up, could he? It didn’t seem like a joke, at least. And, yet, it almost seemed like a cruel stunt somebody was pulling on him. He developed a crush on him in the eighth grade, and now Jeremy— the same Jeremy who voiced to him his fixation with Christine for a full year— was now admitting that  _ he _ felt something for  _ him. _ Something beyond what someone’s supposed to feel for a friend.

It didn’t feel real.

It didn’t feel like the truth.

It probably wasn’t.

He rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment. “Take your nap, Jeremy.”   


Jeremy muttered out an ‘okay.’ And, then, an “I love you.”   


Michael stuffed his hands in his hoodie.

With an upset stomach and an upset mind, he went to go clean up the gauze pads that were still lying on the floor.

-

The doorbell rang. Despite the noise, Jeremy didn’t stir.

Michael rose from his place on the chair and set down Jeremy’s old DS. He stole it from his room, because, goddammit, he needed  _ something _ to distract him. 

He hoped it was Mr. Heere. He just wanted to leave.

Instead, it was Christine, three milkshakes gathered up in her arms, just like she promised. “I hope you like chocolate,” she beamed.

“I do, thanks,” he smiled in return, gesturing for her to come inside. Thank God for Christine. 

She glanced over at Jeremy, who was still passed out on the couch. “Is he doing okay?”   


“M’mm, yeah,” he replied. “He just conked out after we came home. You can set his milkshake anywhere. I’ll just stash it in the freezer later. No idea why that weirdo likes strawberry.”   


She handed Michael his, then set Jeremy’s down on the TV stand. “Yeah, you know, I never liked strawberry ice cream all that much. I just stick with vanilla most of the time.”   


“Well,” Michael said, plopping himself down in his seat, “at least he’ll have something to eat when he wakes up.”   


Christine sat down in the rocking chair adjacent to Michael. “How long has he been out?”   


“Uh, about… a couple hours?” Michael told her. “He’s been doing alright. Just saying weird stuff.”   


“Ooh, what  _ kinda _ weird stuff?” she grinned, leaning forward in her seat.

He took a sip of his milkshake and pointed his gaze at the floor. “Uh… nothing much.”   


“Aw,  _ c’mon, _ Michael. You gotta tell me something. I wanna know what he said.”   


Trying to clear his mind of Jeremy’s behavior upon arriving home, he relayed a few stories of doped-up Jeremy to her. “He kept asking me stuff about mermaids.”   


“Like what?”   


“Like, if they were cannibals or carnivores or herbivores or whatever. He cried a little bit because he thought Ariel killed Flounder.”   


“Really?”   


“Yeah. Evidently, he really likes Flounder. Oh, and earlier he was asking about getting high at an aquarium.”   


“Ah.” She took another mouthful of her drink. “Did he give away any big secrets? I know that’s what most people are afraid of after getting their wisdom teeth pulled. He murder anyone?”   


That was what he was afraid she would ask.

He wanted to tell somebody, but at the same time, it wasn’t his secret to tell. Or was it? At least partly, since it was about him? 

No, he couldn’t divulge something like that while Jeremy was passed out. He probably hadn’t even meant to say anything. Michael didn’t even know if it was true. In fact, it probably wasn’t, so why was he making such a big deal out of it?   


He resolved to shrug, avoid Christine’s gaze, and mutter, “I don’t know.”

A look of both uncertainty and shock crossed her face. “Oh, I was, uh, somewhat joking. He didn’t actually say anything, did he?”

He gave her another shrug.

“You don’t have to tell me what it was,” she said. “I just— oh, shit, did he actually murder somebody? Because, Michael, you  _ know _ I wouldn’t tell a soul—”   


“No! No, he didn’t kill anyone. At least, I think? He mentioned something about Eminem, but I’m pretty sure he was just high— no, he didn’t commit murder.”   


Christine seemed to visibly relax at that. “So, what is it about, then?”

Michael took a deep breath. Why not say something Christine? She seemed like the best person to tell. She could keep it a secret between the two of them. 

Playing with the loose threads on one of the patches on his arm, he said, “He told me he loved me.”   


Her eyes widened. “Oh,” she replied, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Michael said, shifting in his seat. “At first, I just thought it was a friendly thing. I mean, he was speaking before he could think about it, and it wasn’t like we hadn’t told each other we loved one another before, but he said it like he meant… something different. I wrote it off as just a platonic thing, but then he said that he was jealous of that one kid who tried to ask me out because  _ he _ wanted to be the one that I went out with.”

She was quiet for a moment, and, then, “Is that a problem?”

“... No,” he sighed. “Well, kinda, because I don’t know whether or not it was just exhaustion mixed with being high on whatever they gave him, or if he was over-exaggerating, or if he actually meant what he was saying, or…”

Christine sucked in her cheek, chewing on it. After a moment of thought, she said, “I think he meant it.”   


“You do?”   


“Well, yeah,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like he was trying to lie for no reason.”   


“But what if he was? People don’t  _ usually _ tell secrets like that after they get their wisdom teeth out. I know I read that somewhere. Maybe he was just lying to see how I’d react.”

“People don’t  _ usually _ tell their best friend that they’d date them if they really had no feelings for them, regardless of how out of it they are,” she argued. “Besides, it’s not like ‘rarely’ means ‘never.’ Maybe he just felt confident this time, so he did it.”

Michael furrowed his brow. “He did tell me he felt like he could do anything earlier.”

“See what I mean?” She smiled around her straw. “Don’t worry.”   


He couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Thanks, Christine.”   


“Anytime.” After a brief moment of silence, she jolted upright and leapt to her feet. “Shit, I forgot! I just came by to drop these off. I have to meet Jake and Chloe in, like, twenty minutes and I still have a half hour drive.”   


“Bye,” he called after her as she sprinted to the door.

“Bye!” she called back, already halfway outside.

The door slammed shut. Once again, it was just Michael, a sleeping Jeremy, and his problems. 

He took a sip from his milkshake and resumed his game.

-

Mr. Heere came back three hours after Christine’s visit. Jeremy, unsurprisingly, was still asleep. Michael hadn’t had the chance to make him shove new gauze pads in his mouth. He figured he’d leave that job to Jeremy himself.

He stepped into the house without warning, which, admittedly, made Michael jump, but he felt relief wash over him once he realized who it was.

“Hello, Michael,” Mr. Heere greeted, his voice hushed upon seeing Jeremy’s slumbering figure on the couch. 

“Hey, Mr. Heere,” he said, returning his tone. He set the DS on the coffee table in front of him. He’d spent the last five hours flipping through channels, playing  _ Mario Party DS, _ and pacing around in the kitchen (he had always found pacing to be soothing).

He removed a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and laid it in front of Michael. “Hope he didn’t cause any trouble.”   


“Nah,” Michael replied, rising from his seat and slipping the money into his own pocket. Initially, he thought about refusing cash, but by that time a good portion of him had completely zoned out. 

“Did he do anything embarrassing?” he asked, throwing in a friendly wink. “I wanna be filled in.”   


“Mostly, he just slept and asked weird questions. He thought all his teeth were gone at one point. Oh, and he cried a little bit about the fish from Ariel,” he told him. It was only a half-lie. He  _ did _ ask stupid questions and he took a nap once they got home. Michael was just conveniently leaving out the dating part for both their sakes.

Mr. Heere chuckled, sparing a glance back at Jeremy, and then returning his gaze to Michael. “I’ll be sure to tease him about that.”   


He nodded, for lack of a better response, and then said, “I should probably go. Make sure Jeremy doesn’t die for me.”   


“Will do,” he replied. “Drive safe, Michael.”

With that, he was out the door and heading into the driveway.

He climbed into his PT Cruiser and turned the key, but didn’t pull out onto the road immediately.

Instead, he sat there.

In all honesty, even if Jeremy had meant what he said, there was no telling what would happen if Michael confronted him about it. He’d probably deny it. Or he’d accuse him of making things up. Or they’d get into a fight. And, even if they miraculously got their shit sorted out and ended up getting together, there was no guarantee that it would last. If it didn’t, what would happen then? Would it be awkward? Would they still be friends? Would they even still speak to each other? Michael really didn’t want to be known as Jeremy’s shitty ex-boyfriend.

He backed out onto the road and started driving off.

Maybe it was best not to say anything.

So what if Michael ended up pining after Jeremy for another few years? His friendship was more important to him, anyways. He wouldn’t adore him like this forever, and he’d be happier in the long run if they just remained friends.

Maybe he’d never find out what could be. Was that such a big deal?   


Was it?

Michael switched on the radio.

Maybe it was best not to think about it, either.


	2. Chapter Two: Reciprocation

Michael couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He tried, but he couldn’t, and the fact that they were constantly around each other wasn’t beneficial to his efforts.

When he looked at Jeremy, he couldn’t help but be reminded of his voice, weary and garbled.

_ “I love you.” _

He didn’t really mean it. He knew he didn’t mean it. If Michael thought otherwise, he would only get his hopes up. 

_ “It’s because I realized that I wanted to be the one to go out with you.” _

Jeremy had been out of it. He had no idea what he was saying or what he was doing, and, goddammit, Michael just wanted to watch his best friend talk incoherently about something weird or reveal some sort of embarrassing yet insignificant secret. He didn’t sign up to be faced with a maybe-confession induced by exhaustion and anesthetic. 

_ “People don’t  _ usually _ tell their best friend that they’d date them if they really had no feelings for them, regardless of how out of it they are.” _

Michael was never going to get over this.

“Michael!  _ Michael! _ Shit— Dude, we just died!” Jeremy complained, interrupting his thoughts. “You gotta help me get past the second horde!”   


“Oh,” he said, remembering the familiar weight of the controller in his hands. “Right. Sorry.”   


Jeremy side-eyed him. “Are you okay, man? You seem… I don’t know… off.”

“I’m fine,” Michael assured him, smiling and wrapping his fingers around the controller. “Just spaced out.”   


“You’re spacing out more than usual.”   


“I space out all the time, Jeremy.”

“Yeah, but never during a game, and especially never during games you suck at but insist you don’t.”   


“I don’t suck at this game!”   


“See? There it is. The denial.”

“Man, c’mon. Don’t make me bring up Super Mario Sunshine.”   


“We agreed not to speak about Super Mario Sunshine.”

“Well, I’m speaking about it. Remember how—”   


“Okay,  _ fine,” _ Jeremy sighed. “You’re perfectly competent at this game.”

Michael grinned. “You flatter me.”

The corners of Jeremy’s lips upturned. “Of course.”

In that moment, Michael wasn’t sure whether or not to love or hate his smile. 

The game over screen disappeared and they restarted the level.

It had been four days since the procedure. Jeremy’s mouth had healed, he was no longer feeling the effects of the laughing gas, and he had no recollection of what happened after they got home, which meant no memory of his confession. Michael was holding off on reminding him of what he did. The potential risks were much higher than the rewards.

Maybe he meant was he was saying. Maybe he had been over-exaggerating. Either way, it was best to keep quiet until the truth was forced out of him.

The grip on his controller went limp again. He stopped fiddling with the buttons, now only swirling around the joystick with his thumb.

He loosely registered enemies tearing apart he and Jeremy’s characters, causing another game over screen to interrupt them.

“Dude!” Jeremy said. “Seriously, are you all good?”   


“I’m good! I’m fine, really,” Michael again reassured, setting his controller to the side. “Everything’s cool. Just— uh— thinkin’ about useless stuff. Hey, didn’t you wanna play the Dreamcast earlier?”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, why?”   


He stood, gesturing vaguely to where the Dreamcast laid in the corner, waiting to be used. “That’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna get it set up, you get the other bag of Funyuns from upstairs.”   


Jeremy smiled back at him, rising from his place on the beanbag chair. “Okay. I’m gonna bring down the Fritos, too, ‘cause the Funyuns will be gone in, like, two seconds.”   


“I like the way you think, Heere,” he called as Jeremy ran up the stairs. 

Michael stared into the empty room, then made his way over to the Dreamcast sitting in the corner.

He developed— or, at least, came to terms with— his crush on Jeremy late in the eighth grade, just before school let out. Michael had just passed Jeremy the controller after he gave up on trying to beat the Hellkite Dragon in Dark Souls (because  _ no, Jeremy, I don’t care if it’s an optional battle, we aren’t skipping it, I’m gonna beat this bastard one way or another).  _ Michael’s eyes strayed from the screen and to Jeremy’s face, all twisted in concentration, eyes focused, brow furrowed. His shoulders were hunched, and he was mashing the buttons as hard as he could as if it would make the character’s attacks stronger. It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

It was then that Michael felt his heart plummet into his stomach. 

(It turned out the problem was that Michael was trying to kill it from the ground, when, really, he just needed to shoot arrows at the tail until it fell off, take the reward, and run. The Hellkite Dragon fight ended up lasting a solid forty-five minutes, but, really, the battle was the least of his problems.)

Since then, Michael had been adoring him in silence— adoring his personality, his humor, his mannerisms, the way the light fell on his face— and never dared to breathe a word to anyone he knew. It was better that way. For everyone.

When he was abandoned on Halloween, he had been crushed. He spent the better part of the night with embarrassing tears streaking his face and trying to steady his breathing, all the while feeling like something was clawing at his throat. If Jeremy chose a motherfucking life-ruining wintergreen tic-tac over his best friend, then maybe he’d been an asshole the whole time. 

Maybe Michael wasted twelve years of his life.

He had pushed Halloween into the far recesses of his mind. After Jeremy woke up, he planned to tell him about all the shit he put him through until he was blue in the face, but he never did. He just paced in front of Jeremy’s hospital bed for three days and decided to keep it to himself, like he always did. 

It took a while to get everything back to normal. Normal being as normal as it could have gotten. It could never be the kind of regular it was before, but it was something, and he and Jeremy eventually fell back into their step. They adapted.

He absentmindedly started plugging in wires where they needed to go.

Michael still sort of wished Jeremy had actually wasted all of his bar mitzvah money on a tic-tac. It would have been better that way. Maybe then everything would still be like it was before, and he wouldn’t feel like he forced his way into a friend group where he probably didn’t belong and where they probably didn’t want him. Then Austin Bremner wouldn’t have asked him out just because he hung out with said group. And then Jeremy wouldn’t have talked so much shit, and Jenna wouldn’t have anything to tell, and Michael wouldn’t have anything to question, and Jeremy wouldn’t admit anything while he was half-asleep and high as balls on fucking laughing gas or whatever it was the dentists administered to him, and Michael wouldn’t have anything to contemplate in the middle of his basement that reeked of weed while trying to set up some used Dreamcast he got on eBay for fifty bucks. 

He ran a hand through his hair.  _ Jesus Christ.  _ He needed to stop thinking.

Jeremy came bounding down the stairs, a bag of Funyuns under his left arm, another bag of Fritos in his hand, and his right arm sliding down the railing.

“You got the goods?” Michael asked, stepping away from the Dreamcast.

He grabbed the bag of Funyuns from his underarm with his free hand. “You know I do,” he said, plopping into the second beanbag chair. “What are we playin’?”   
Michael took a few steps over to the pile of games. He had no shelf to store them on, so stacking them in the corner was the next best thing (although, it caused some mishaps when he and Jeremy got high and tried to play Jenga with the towers of games, being surprised when it didn’t work as well as actual Jenga). He snatched his most recently-bought game from the top, then tossed it over to Jeremy, who studied the cover.

_ “Marvel vs Capcom: Clash of Super Heroes?” _ he read aloud.

“It was the cheapest Dreamcast multiplayer I could find,” Michael shrugged, sitting himself down next to Jeremy. “Granted, it may be scratched and I might be getting ripped off, but we’ll give it a try.”

“Holy shit, dude, is Pheonix Wright in this?”   


“Nah, I don’t think so. This came out in ‘98. Ace Attorney hadn’t been made yet.”   


“Aww, what? I wanted to watch a professional defense attorney beat up the Hulk.”

“He’s gonna use his mad lawyering skills to destroy everyone in his path.”

_ “‘Mad lawyering skills?’” _   


“Yeah. What, you think people waste all that money on law school for some weak-ass knowledge and debate skills? Nah, man. If I went to law school, I wouldn’t leave until I could actually beat up someone by yelling  _ ‘Objection!’ _ enough times.”

“Well, I mean, that’s a good tactic and you could probably burst their eardrums after a while, but have you noticed how pretty much all the lawyers in that game are fuckin’ ripped? As if every law school in that universe also doubles as a bodybuilding agency? It’s wild. Do you remember that one where Edgeworth is accused of murdering someone? Either of them probably could’ve fistfought Von Karma in the middle of the courtroom if there weren’t a judge watching over them.”

“If I were the judge, I would’ve encouraged it. Who would win?”   


“Have you seen Von Karma? Dude’s old. Both Wright and Edgeworth were, like, twenty-something year olds, fresh out of lawyer-bodybuilding school. They could beat Von Karma up any day.”   


“Yeah, but he also had a bullet stuck in his shoulder for years and just didn’t care. And he tasered two people without remorse.  _ And _ he murdered a kid’s father, mentored the kid, and then blamed the murder on the kid over a decade later. He’s hardcore.”

“But the bullet spot was his weak spot. They could have just hit him on the arm and he’d be out cold.”   


“Maybe if Wright had just punched his shoulder from the beginning he could’ve proved that dude was a killer.”

“He could solve all his cases by beating people up. Ace Attorney could have doubled as a fighting game.”

“You’re right, man. I’d love to throw down in court.”

The opening flashed onscreen. Michael gripped onto his controller. If he didn’t want Jeremy to find out anything, he’d have to focus, keep up their regular banter, and pretend nothing was wrong.   


He recalled Austin Bremner’s attempt to ask him out. He had sauntered up to his locker and said,  _ “Hey, how about you and I go out sometime? Bring your friends. We’ll hang.” _

_ Michael swung his locker shut and turned back to him. “Nah, sorry, man.” _

_ Austin frowned. “Aw, what? C’mon, Mitchell, I’ll take you out to the movies or some shit. Everyone else can come along, too. Y’know, so you don’t feel weird.” _

_ He raised a brow. “... It’s Michael.” _

_ For a moment, shock crossed Austin’s face. He shot him a nervous grin. “What’d I say?” _

_ He mentioned it at their table later.  _

_ “I ‘dunno,” he shrugged. “Kinda seemed like he just wanted to hang out with you guys. He didn’t even know my name.” _ _  
_

_ “He  _ what?” _ Jeremy asked, furrowing his brow. “Who?” _

_ “I have no idea.” _ _  
_

_ “What’d he look like?” Jenna questioned, propping herself up on the table with her elbow.  _

_ “Uh, short little guy,” he said. “Buzzcut. Wore a letterman. I think it said Bemmer on the back? No, Benner. No, Brender—” _ _  
_

_ “Austin Bremner?” Jake asked. “I’ve seen him around a few times. He’s a year below us, I think.”  _

_ “So this ‘Austin’ dude,” Jeremy said. “He just asked you out solely so he could hang with everyone else?” _ _  
_

_ “Guess so.”  _

_ Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like an asshole.” _

_ “Oh, wait, now I remember!” Jenna interrupted. “Yeah, I know Austin Bremner!” _

_ “You do?” Jeremy leaned towards her. “What’s he like?” _ _  
_

_ “Just a normal kid, pretty much,” she shrugged. _

_ “You have to have more than  _ that,” _ Jeremy prompted. “You really don’t have any dirt on him?” _

_ She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips, thinking. “I think he cheated on Angel Lutz a couple months ago.” _

_ “See? Asshole.” _ _  
_

_ “Or am I thinking of Austin Harris?” _

_ “... Probably an asshole regardless. I mean, he used Michael, so I think that qualifies.” _

Eventually, they all returned to their usual chatter, but Jeremy still seemed pissed. It was understandable— Michael was sort of pissed off, too, but he seemed to be even angrier than him. 

At the time, Michael never suspected jealousy to be one of the factors in his attitude towards Austin, but it seemed conceivable, he supposed. Jeremy had just never been that jealous over something as trivial as Michael rejecting someone.

Maybe Jeremy really just had a crush on Austin Bremner. 

Yeah.

Maybe that was it.

Jesus, why was he trying to deny it? Michael had been smitten with Jeremy for years, and now that Jeremy had admitted to having the same feelings for  _ him, _ he was trying to find excuses. Was it because Michael wanted to be the one to do it? Because he wanted to put to use one of the many unrealistic scenarios he conjured up in his mind in which he confessed to Jeremy, and Jeremy would be all  _ ‘Me too, Michael!’ _ and they’d be happy forever? Was it because he was scared? Afraid of what would happen if it didn’t work out? Afraid for them to have a messy breakup? Afraid for a long-term friendship to be tossed away because Michael made a mistake? Was it because he didn’t want anything to change more than it already had? Wanted to spend the rest of time as best friends without heightening the risk of another falling out? Wanted to preserve what they already had?   
Or was it because he was fearful in view of the fact that, if they had a fight and never made up, he would just go back to having no friends, abandoned and left behind? Because he had clung to Jeremy and only Jeremy for the past decade and never bothered to even attempt making any other friends? He had to be forced into a group because that was the one _ Jeremy _ was a part of, and if they fought, he would no doubt be pushed out of the circle. He was almost certain they didn’t want him there, anyway.

_ Goddammit. _ He needed to focus on the game, not psychoanalyze himself. 

Really, it didn’t need to be that big of a deal. Michael just needed to stick to his original plan— tell Jeremy nothing. 

Still, Christine had been calling and texting during the past few days, asking him if he had said anything yet. Of course, the answer was always  _ ‘I’ll tell him later!’,  _ and then she would say,  _ ‘It’s better to just tell him now, Michael!’.  _ He wondered how long it would take before the subject blew over.

“Aw  _ hell _ yeah!” Jeremy shouted, again causing his train of thought to crumble. “Who sucks at fighting games  _ now?” _

“Still you,” Michael smiled.

“What? C’mon, dude.”   


“I’m sorry, man. I have just never seen someone suck at Mortal Kombat as much as you do.”   


“It’s hard!”   


“Half of the time you just have to buttonmash to win, Jeremy.”   


“No, you have to use combos. In fact,  _ you _ use combos that I don’t know. Which I like to consider cheating.”

“I don’t cheat. I just utilize my knowledge.”

“Cheating.”   


“The fact that you don’t know the combos isn’t my fault, Jer.”   


“The fact that I have clumsy fingers isn’t my fault, either.”   


“Are you kidding me? My fingers are chubby as fuck, dude. Those buttons are little. Still, I manage to kick your ass each time.”

“Whatever, man. We only played it, like— what— two or three times before the cartridge broke? How do you know I’m bad at fighting games in general just from one game?”   


“It’s Mortal Kombat, Jeremy. A pretty substantial amount of fighting games do the same thing as Mortal Kombat with combos and shit.”

“The fact that your ass just got handed to you at this particular fighting game still stands.”   


“Okay. I’ll admit to everyone that I was beaten one time during our first match of Marvel vs Capcom, a game in which you can make Captain America and Mega Man duke it out.”   


“Thank you. I enjoy being the undefeated champion.”   


“Undefeated for  _ now.” _   


“That sounds vaguely like a threat.”   


“It could be.”   


“... We’ll go another round. And then I’ll beat you again and continue to carry on my title.”   


“We’ll see,” Michael smiled, his voice low. “We will see.”

And, then—  _ “Michael!” _

The unmistakable sound of his brother’s voice.

Michael sighed, rising from his spot and sprinting to the staircase, climbing halfway up and then stopping in his tracks.  _ “What?” _ he yelled in response.

He heard his phone buzz from the other side of the room.

_ “Do we have any peanut butter left?” _ _  
_

“You got a text,” Jeremy said, picking up Michael’s phone. “You want me to read it to you?”   


“Yeah, hold on,” Michael responded, then shouted,  _ “There’s some on the counter!” _

Michael turned back towards Jeremy. His brow was knitted. Michael heard a distant  _ “Thanks!” _ from upstairs.

“What?” he asked.

Jeremy glanced back up at him. “It’s from Christine. She said,  _ ‘Have you told Jeremy what he said when he was dopey? You have to at some point! It’s gonna eat you up!’” _

_ Shit. _

“Jeremy, I, uh—” Michael began, his sentence just devolving into “uh… uh…”   


“What’d I say?” he asked, setting the phone aside.

“Nothing!” he tried to reassure him. “You didn’t say anything. It’s all good.”   


Jeremy made a face. “Is it really that bad?”

“No! Christine was just— she was just— uh—”

“Did I say something mean? Because, Michael, I swear, I will kick my own ass—”   


“Nothing mean! Just— uh— shit—”   


“Michael,” he said, eyes narrowing, “what did I do?”   


Michael sighed. He darted his eyes away from Jeremy’s gaze. 

_ Damn it. _

“You— uh— when you were drifting off, right when we got home…” Michael ran a hand through his hair. “You told me you loved me. That you were jealous of that one kid who asked me out a few weeks ago because you wanted to go out with me instead.”

Jeremy was silent. They both were. 

“Oh,” he said finally. 

Michael rubbed the sole of his shoe on the ground. “Yeah.”   


He glanced back over at Jeremy, who was now staring at the floor, his face redder than he’d ever seen it before. Jeremy spoke again, his voice cracking. “Listen, Michael—”   


“It’s fine,” he dismissed, fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve. “Don’t worry about it.”   


Jeremy winced. “Michael, I’m really sorry—”

“No, no, I get it! It’s cool! Lots of people say shit they don’t mean when they’re out of it! It’s fine! It’s all good!”   


“Michael—”

“Jeremy, really, it’s okay! You didn’t know what you were saying. It was a lie you told while you were loopy. You probably just wanted to get a reaction out of me.”   


“I—”   


“It’s absolutely fine! You were almost asleep, not to mention—”   


_“Michael.”_   


“What?” Michael asked. God, he wanted to vanish into thin air.    


“I’m— wait, are you… uh… are you crying?”

He touched a finger to his cheek. A trail of wetness streaked down his face, barely there, but there all the same. “... I guess so. Jesus, Jer, I’m sorry.”

This was embarrassing.  _ He _ was embarrassing. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“Michael, are you—”   


“No, no, sorry,” he interrupted, swiping a hand over his face. “I don’t really know why I’m doing that. I’ve just been thinking a lot.”   


“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jeremy told him. 

“I know.” He threaded a few fingers through his hair. “But I am anyways.”

A pause. “Hey, Michael?”   


“Yeah?”   


“What’s going on?”

His plan was to keep quiet until the truth was forced out of him, but now that the truth  _ was _ being forced out of him, he decided that maybe he needed to start planning for things better. 

Michael took a deep breath, ignoring the parts of him that were screaming to stay quiet and make something up. “I, uh… I know you probably didn’t… mean what you said, but Christine thinks you did, and it’s been kinda bothering me a lot. I was afraid bringing it up might make us fight, so I just sort of avoided it. It just... wasn’t worth mentioning.” 

Jeremy’s face grew even redder. He glared at the ground, then towards the ceiling, then dragged a hand down his face and mumbled something.

Michael was afraid to ask, but he did it anyway. “... What’d you say?”   


Jeremy, for a half a second, glanced up at him, then returned his gaze to the floor. With another crack in his voice, he said, “I meant it.”

Michael stared at him. “What?”

“I— fuck, dude, don’t make me say it again— I meant it,” he admitted. “Just— if you wanted closure to make you feel better or something.”

Michael wasn’t sure what to say.

In his stomach, there was a deep sense of dread, and in his head, there was doubt and confusion, but his heart felt like it was blooming. Or plummeting? Blooming? Both, maybe?

He had a lot of things he wanted to say, but, instead of articulating his most important thoughts in an accurate way, he asked the same question Jeremy could ask him.  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Jeremy half-laughed at that. “Are you kidding me? I had to blow all my bar mitzvah money on some obscure pez candy just to  _ talk _ to Christine, and we didn’t even end up working out. How was I supposed to tell you, my best friend who I was a complete  _ asshole _ to for months? You’re a way better person than me, Michael. It just… I was scared.”   


Michael racked his brain for responses, but none surfaced. His mind was racing, his heart was racing, his stomach was doing flips in both the good and bad way, and he wasn’t sure of what he was going to do next. “I’m… not… Jeremy, trust me, I’m not better than you.”

“Yes, you are. I know you say you have, but even if you haven’t forgiven me for the shit I put you through, you still stick around. I don’t deserve you, Michael, and I was afraid that if I told you and something happened, then you’d leave for someone who does.”

Michael sat there for a moment. 

He didn’t like to think back on the period of time where he was abandoned and friendless, but, sometimes, he couldn’t help it. Jeremy spent the first month apologizing, until Michael, really not wanting to discuss it any further, eventually told him  _ stop, I forgive you, _ and they finally agreed to renew the promise they made in the sixth grade vowing to tell each other if something was bothering them. 

Michael broke that promise, and, evidently, so had Jeremy.

Really, the fact that Jeremy felt the same about him and actually admitted it to him was mind-boggling. Michael still wasn’t sure if he believed it one hundred percent, but he was pretty up there. (Ninety-six percent, maybe? Ninety-seven?)

Which only meant that it was Michael’s turn.

_ Shit. _

He could only hope that someone wasn’t going to jump out of the closet with a camera and yell  _ “Psych!” _

Michael, already feeling his face burn, spoke. “I’m— I’m not gonna do that.”

Jeremy glanced up at him. “Why?”   


He decided to focus his gaze on the wall. He’d reached the point of no return. “I— Jesus— I… feel the same. About you.”

Jeremy was quiet, and, then, “... What do you mean?”   


He took a deep breath, rocking on his heels for a moment. Jeremy would always be oblivious as hell, but Michael knew that he, himself, was probably painfully oblivious to some things, too, so he couldn’t really blame him. “When you said you… ‘meant it.’ About your dopey confession. It bothered me so much because if you didn’t mean it, it would fuckin’ suck, and if you did, it could also potentially suck, because it would just heighten the risk of getting into a fight and never speaking again. I didn’t want to take that chance.”   


Another bout of silence. Michael was sick of silence. 

“You were afraid of fighting again, too?” Jeremy asked.

Michael looked over at him, making eye contact for a brief moment. Jeremy was practically glowing crimson. “Yeah. Like, for the past week, I’ve had at least eighty fight scenarios play over in my head, and they all suck.”

“Dude, I have at least two hundred I could lay out right now.”   


Michael raised both hands to head and ran them through his hair. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this. Is this— are we together now?”

Realization crossed Jeremy’s face. “Shit, are we?”

_ Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.  _ “If you want to be. Do you want to be?”   


“Yeah. Do you?”   


“Yeah.”   


Another pause. “Are we… is this… so we’re a thing now?”

“I— yeah, I guess.” Michael could feel his fourteen year old self screaming.   


Hesitation, and then, “What if we fight?”   


Michael’s smile, which he hadn’t even known was there, faltered. “Promise we won’t.”   


“We’re gonna fight at some point. I mean, we  _ just _ fought. I was Spiderman and you were Captain Commando.”   


“I know, I mean— let’s not have… big fights. Like, no I’m-not-gonna-talk-to-you-for-days fights.”   


“... We’re probably gonna have one of those at some point, too.”

“God, I know, I just— I don’t want to.”

“Me neither.”

“Let’s just… let’s promise not to break up over something really stupid. Like  jealousy, or me kicking your ass at the next round of Marvel vs Capcom.”   


Jeremy grinned. “Deal. Although, I can’t see you beating me at Marvel vs Capcom anytime in the future, so I guess we’re safe on that one.”

“I don’t know,” Michael said, strolling closer to Jeremy. “The future’s full of possibilities.”   


“Including the possibility where I beat you next match.”   


“That’s a pretty small possibility.”   


“It happened once already.”   


“Which means you’re out of luck.”   


“Or that I’m getting luckier. I mean, we  _ did _ just get together. I think. I’d consider myself pretty lucky at the moment.”

Michael’s stepped a little closer. “We are a thing, right? We both said we wanted to be and now we are? This is what that is?”   


Jeremy edged a little nearer. “Yeah. We’re… a thing.”   


“A together thing. A dating thing.”   


“M’hmm. Does that mean this is a date? Right now?”   


“God, I hope not. I want to take you to better places than a basement that smells like weed. Plus, if this is a date, it means we’ve been dating for years.”   


“Good point. Although, I’d be happy if we just sat in your car in the parking lot at Target.”   


“Me too, but I’m not letting that be a date, either. My car smells like pot.”   


“What are your date regulations, Michael?”   


“I can’t take you out anywhere that smells like weed.”   


“What about that hipster cafe that just opened up next to the mall? Every time I walk past it, it reeks of pot.”   


“Why would we go there? You said that Jenna told you their coffee is pricey and tastes like water, and you swore to never step inside, anyways, because the whole place sorta scares you.”   


“And it  _ does _ scare me. Whenever I go by, there’s people inside that I’ve never seen in my entire life, and they just keep… regenerating. The place doesn’t even have regulars, I think. Just new people every day. I’m convinced that if I go in there I’ll get sucked in by a portal to hell. I know Jenna went one time, but how do we know that’s even the real Jenna? Maybe the real Jenna got eaten by a demon made of weed, which is why it smells like pot all the time. Actually, I think I’m onto something, Michael.”   


“So why would we want to go there if it’s infested by weed-demons?”

“Oh, because maybe-Jenna also told me that, although their coffee tastes like shit, if you buy one, they give you a bunch of these Cinna-Stix copies for free. According to her, they taste better than the original, which is impossible. That could just be maybe-Jenna’s way of luring me into the portal to hell.”

“Maybe we’ll go there just to get coffee, receive generic brand Cinna-Stix, and run out of the door. I’ll protect you from any conspicuous portals.”

“Thanks, Michael. That’s pretty sweet.”

He felt himself pink. Before he could think, he asked, “Could I— uh— kiss you?”   


Jeremy’s eyebrows raised. His smile fell for a brief moment in surprise, then upturned into a toothy grin, genuine and wide. “Okay,” he said, a hint of a giggle bubbling out of his throat.

Michael leaned towards him, and Jeremy did the same.

It was sloppy. Their teeth clacked together once, and then twice, and Michael’s heart was beating out of his chest the entire time. He was sure his hands were sweaty. Jeremy sort of tasted like Funyuns, and Michael probably did, too, having just scarfed down more than half the bag in less than ten minutes. After three years, Michael could not have asked for a better kiss.

They stopped for a second. Then kissed again.

Then stopped. And kissed again.

After they broke apart, they stared at each other, smiling wide. 

“That, uh…” Michael began, trailing off because, as it turned out, there really wasn’t much to say that he could articulate into coherent sentences.

“Pretty, um… Pretty nice,” Jeremy finished for him.    


“Yeah,” he agreed. Michael struggled to look away. Jeremy’s cheeks were rosy and pink and pretty. Jeremy always seemed to look pretty. 

Jeremy’s already wide grin widened some more before he severed his gaze to look at his feet instead, then at the floor, then at the Dreamcast. He lowered himself back onto one of the old beanbags they had both chipped in for a couple years ago. Both chairs were slightly reminiscent of a trash bag, but it worked for them.

Jeremy patted the seat next to him. “C’mon,” he said. “I’ve got another round to beat you at.”   


Michael hopped into the chair beside him and picked up his controller.

Maybe they would have another falling out. Maybe they would get into some fights. Maybe, at some point, they’d even end up taking a break.

But that was fine. They’d worked through it before, and they could again. 

Besides, he really only wanted to think about the present. About how, after three years of wishing and wanting and, deep down, knowing it would never happen, he kissed Jeremy. 

He wasn’t sure how to describe the feeling. All he could say was that it felt nice, but it felt more than nice, too. More than sweet and more than pleasant. 

It was difficult to realize that three years of hoping and daydreaming all led up to Jeremy confessing to Michael while he was high and half-asleep. If he went back in time and told his fourteen year old self everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure if past-Michael would be rolling around on the floor, refusing to believe a word, or in shock. His present self still couldn’t believe it, and yet here he was, and here they were.

A grin was still on his lips when his phone buzzed again, reminding him he had a text he still needed to check.

While still trying to mash buttons on his controller one-handed, he clumsily unlocked his phone and tapped out a reply.

 

**jesus christine:**

_ Have you told Jeremy what he said when he was dopey?? You have to at some point! It’s gonna eat you up!!!!!!! >:0 _

 

**highway to mell:** **  
**

_ yeah, i did actually _

 

He glanced towards Jeremy, who was transfixed on the screen, furiously tapping at his controller.

 

**highway to mell:**

_ it went better than expected _

 

He tossed his phone to the side and returned to the game.

Jeremy’s head was gradually finding its way to Michael’s shoulder. The game’s background music softly blared, serving as something to fill the comfortable silence that rested between the two of them.

Michael could not have been happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again!  
> I'm so sorry this took so long. I had a really busy 4th of July and an even busier week afterwards (including three birthdays-- I noticed there are a lot of people who have July birthdays. Happy birthmonth to any July babies reading this). It's been pretty eventful. I was in a slump for the first half of this because I hadn't really planned that far and wasn't feeling confident in the chapter at all, so I sort of ended up making myself write at least 500 words per night, no matter what. Still ended up taking two weeks, but whatever.  
> I'm just making excuses. Sorry, and thanks for being patient! Hope you enjoyed the last chapter. Again, my Tumblr is nillial. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> Hope you liked this! I know people usually don't reveal embarrassing secrets after getting their wisdom teeth removed, but, y'know. Story purposes.  
> I haven't had my wisdom teeth out, so I hope this is somewhat accurate. If I did anything wrong, forgive me, and feel free to point out any spelling or grammar mistakes I might have skipped over.  
> My Tumblr is nillial, if you feel like yelling at me. I'll try to get the final chapter out soon. Thank you for reading!


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